I was thinking yesterday of how nothing in life is wasted—none of our wandering, none of our pain. It is, as a wise person (though I can't remember who) once told me, "all grist." Or maybe that's just how writers and other artistic sorts (and bloggers!) console themselves with the hard stuff in life. "At least this experience will be good for a story/song/poem/painting or two..."
At bedtime I happened to read this poem, which seemed perfect for that line of thought:
Alchemy
I lift my heart as spring lifts up
A yellow daisy to the rain;
My heart will be a lovely cup
Altho' it holds but pain.
For I shall learn from flower and leaf
That color every drop they hold,
To change the lifeless wine of grief
To living gold.
—Sara Teasdale, 1915
photo by Lisa at TSS.
BARTER
by Sara Teasdale
Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up,
Holding wonder like a cup.
Life has loveliness to sell
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.
Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.
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This classic poem is just what I needed today.
I want to focus on beauty, and believe it still exists in the world. Not just in nature, but in the actions of human beings.
I've been seeing a lot of ugliness lately. A false sense of entitlement, a lack of civility, disrespect for the office of the presidency. Ignorance and misinformation perpetrated by talk show hosts. Mad dogs, frothing at the mouth. Centuries of hate, bubbling to the surface. People protesting one thing, but ultimately angry because of something else. If they are so concerned about lies and out of control spending, why did they remain silent while billions of dollars was spent on a war based on a lie? Where were their protests then?
Lies are ugly. Racism is ugly. For the life of me, I'll never be able to understand why some can't stand the thought of a black man in the White House, and even worse, why they can't, or won't, even admit to themselves what is really fueling their vitriol.
There is beauty in the innocent heart of a child. There is beauty in a child's natural acceptance of others before prejudices are taught. Before we can erradicate ugliness, we have to look at it out in the open, recognize it for what it is. It's a trade, like the poem says. There'll always be a price to pay for beauty, for peace, for tolerance. As we try our best to endure these growing pains, I want to remind myself of the possible reward. Maybe someday, when a child looks up in wonder, he/she will see only love, a color blind love. Now that would be beautiful.
photo by jabassen da Photo Freak.
photo by carf.
photo by Lisa at TSS.
photo by Scott Stanfield.
photo by Pete Shacky.
photo by patiencerandle.
Today's Poetry Friday Roundup is at Becky's Book Reviews.
Copyright © 2009 Jama Rattigan of jama rattigan's alphabet soup.
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